Of Pepperoni and Porn
by IcelandGirl812
Summary: Stilettos and toast. Experimenting and avoidance. Bambi and best friends. Drabbles written as love for Ollie.
1. Joy

**A/N: Soo... yeah. Some of these got a little carried away in the word-count department. *shakes fist at words* But alas. I'm too weak and easily-falling-in-love-ish to cut or start over in a different direction. And so, I hope you like them anyway, my AusLee. Because I sure like you. (Or love, whichever. Ya know.)**

**More thanks than I or anything can ever say for being sweeter than pie, and awesomely you.**

**And thank you, Lisa (not you, Ollie, the other one :P) for prereading and just generally being lovely.  
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**Prompt - Joy**

**Disclaimer: I own neither pie nor Twilight. Weep for me.**

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"What are you doing?"

I peer up at him, staring at me over the coffee table we're dining on. "What?"

"You don't like pepperoni?" The easy-going happy seems to drain from his face instantly.

"I love pepperoni."

I long to say _duh_, but that seems mildly harsh.

"Then why are you picking them off your pizza?"

"Why not?"

"Look, I know I didn't actually _make_ this pizza, but still. I feel wounded and hurt in sympathy for it."

"Why?"

"Because you're picking the poor thing apart!"

"I pull the pepperoni off and eat it first. Cause it's best by itself."


	2. Shoes

**Prompt - Shoes**

**Disclaimer: I own a ton of flip-flops. And not Twilight.**

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She had on her fuck-me stilettos.

The fuck-me-right-the-fuck-now ones.

The ones that always made my dick hard as fucking diamonds and _begging_ to be fucked.

The heel alone could do serious damage, and seriously fucking _did it_ for me.

Wearing those shoes, she tested my control, poked and prodded it to see if it would hold up.

I wasn't so sure it would.

One man and his dick can only be expected to withstand so much.

I wanted her. _Bad_.

Wanted to fuck her and... and... so many other things.

But I couldn't.

Because she wasn't mine.

She was his.

And not in a flippant way.

In a _married_ way.


	3. Romantic

**A/N: Er, yah. I took a couple liberties with interpreting this prompt, heh. All in good fun, though. :)**

**Prompt - Romantic**

**Disclaimer: I do not own a telescope, or Twilight.**

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"So did you hear Tyler Crowley is going gay?"

I gasped in legitimate surprise. "No way!"

"Yup. He's calling it his 'Experimenting with Experiences Month.'"

"You're not shitting me?"

She held up three fingers. "Swear to Bowie it's the truth."

"So at the end of the month he's gonna... What? Stay gay or go straight again?"

"Or be bi, I guess."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Jocks."

"Yup."

"Oh!" My grin was wicked as we linked arms. "Did you hear what Manly-Stanley was caught doing with her telescope the other day?"

It was her turn to gasp. "No, I didn't!"


	4. Light

**A/N: Okay, honesty time. More than a few of these were kinda sorta maybe a little bit to soothe, for a short time at least, several story ideas plaguing me. Jsyk.**

**Prompt - Light**

**Disclaimer: I own a sudden addiction to present tense, yet not Twilight.  
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**The high fluorescence in here shadows his eyes, highlights the shadows below them.

I lose myself in them for a moment, forgetting my body is supposed to be moving.

His chuckle, heated breath on my skin, tickles my ear and shivers down my spine, doesn't end till it reaches my toes.

I don't even know his name.

He's closer. Not flush, but closer.

The left side of my waist feels special, being treated to the delirium of his hand there.

The right feels better, having his entire side so close to completely touching.

My eyes close when I feel him lean down, nose at the back of my neck, lips on the side of it.

It's more contact than anything so far. I wonder if he knows I'm putty in his warm palms, would do anything, go anywhere.

Am completely his already.

His fingers squeeze me, tongue tasting skin.

Both driving me crazy.

And I think maybe he _does_ know.


	5. Snow

**Prompt - Snow**

**Disclaimer: I have a packet of growable snow on my dresser. SMeyer has Twilight. Pretty sure I win.**

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**"What you need is a doctor to date."

"No way in _hell_ am I falling victim to that cliché."

"But why not? It'd be perfect."

"Okay, just cause I walk about as good as ice-skating Bambi in a blizzard, does _not_ mean I need to date a doctor."

"It'd be so much easier than a trillion ER visits, though."

"Hey, the people at Saint Rose's are surprisingly good to me."

"Plus, not only would he be smoking hot—"

"Because all doctors are, magically."

"—but since he's a _doctor_ and all, he'd be awesome in bed."

"Because all doctors are, magically."

"No, because he'd know exactly _where_ to locate anything _elusive_."


	6. Eyes

**Prompt - Eyes**

**Disclaimer: I own words that fly without much thought, yet Twilight I do not.**

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I was cynical.

That was all there was to it.

I was cynical and impatient.

Over thirty, and forget being married or engaged or in a serious relationship, I'd never even fucking _been in love_.

I gobbled up—was addicted to, honestly—every romantic and cliché and romantically cliché and clichély romantic thing I could get my hands on.

Written, watched, even sung, I feasted on every one.

Despite the niggling fact that I wasn't even sure I actually _believed _in love at all.

It was a perfectly normal Wednesday morning, in the middle of my perfectly normal Starbucks routine, when a boy came along and kicked in my sandcastle.

No, not a boy.

A _man_.

A man that crumbled every foundation I'd ever had—ever constructed.

And all by naturally and unassumingly living out one of the clichés I was hooked on, but had never believed in.

Past tense.

I didn't scan his body first, note his hair color, check out his ass, scope his fingers, any of my normal customs for the opposite sex.

Our gazes simply locked.

I didn't see lashes or shape, pupil to white ratio, or even color.

I only saw a _soul_.


	7. Cupboard

**Prompt - Cupboard**

**Disclaimer: I own a sudden perversion of cupboards thanks to a certain two people. SMeyer just owns Twilight.**

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**"Wait wait." He shook his head. "Are you saying you want me to make love to you in a _cabinet_?"

"Yes." I bit my tongue, grinning. "Well, maybe no."

He let out a happy breath. "Oh thank g—"

"I want you to _fuck_ me in it."

I stared at his throat as he swallowed thickly, not saying anything.

_Ooh, I made him speechless._

"And technically, we're on vacation in England. So it's a _cupboard_."

"It's small."

My gaze went from encouraging to absolutely wicked in one-point-five seconds.

I palmed the front of his already-tight slacks.

"That's never stopped you before."


	8. House

**Prompt - House**

**Disclaimer: I own these word-count-defying words, someone else owns Twilight.**

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**"For fuck's sake! Will you pull up your pants? Every time you bend over, you give me crack."

He grinned, big and wide. "Scamming on my ass, eh?"

"What? No!"

"Oh come on. Totally are."

"Am not! You're my best friend! I wouldn't... scam on your ass, as you put it."

His eyebrows raised, cocky overcoming the dorky. "Your denial is just an insult, ya know."

"Why would I scam your ass?"

"Because you've got the hots for me."

I gulped. Quite literally. "I do not." Tried to be nonchalant and scoffing.

Probably failed.

"You _so_ do."

"Why would you even think that?" _As spot-on as it is._

"Remember the other night? When you were over here and ditched _Friends_ reruns with me for hanging with my dope of a sister?"

"Shut up," I scolded halfheartedly in her defense. "And yes, I remember. What about it?"

"Well," he tossed an orange into the air, caught it, "I got annoyed with you two, so decided I'd eavesdrop. Get some dirt, use it for blackmail later, the usual."

I fought to keep my mouth from dropping, my lip from quivering, my body from running away.

"Only, you weren't talking about harmless, loser, chick stuff worthy of blackmail."

I knew exactly what we'd been talking about. And that knowledge scared the shit out of me.

"Nope. You were talking about _me_."

He stepped closer. So near.

My back hit the edge of the counter.

"Specifically, just how badly you've got it for me."


	9. Photograph

**Prompt - Photograph**

**Disclaimer: I own way too much fun with this one. The Meyer owns Twilight.**

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**Painful but fulfilling realizations crashed into me as I stared at the permanent image of us.

Paper hats and life-vests and wooden sticks and laughing faces and sheer happy.

And perfection.

He was the Kenan to my Kel.

The peanut butter to my jelly.

The milk to my chocolate.

The pepperoni to my pizza.

The bacon to my eggs.

The Tuesday to my Monday.

The Mountain to my Dew.

The Sylvester to my Tweety.

The Tom to my Jerry.

The Bugs to my Bunny.

The thunder to my lightning.

The camera to my picture.

The shaken to my stirred.

The olive to my martini.

The plug to my outlet.

The cone to my ice cream.

The cheese to my burger.

The ham to my sandwich.

The shore to my ocean.

The mustard to my ketchup.

The Mello to my Yello.

The Abe to my Lincoln.

The lava to my volcano.

The fries to my milkshake.

The royal to my flush.

The prince to my Cinderella.

The Woody to my Buzz.

The meatballs to my spaghetti.

The Coke to my Cola.

The Dexter to my Laboratory.

The toaster to my bread.

The whole to my half.

The every to my thing.


	10. Space

**Prompt - Space**

**Disclaimer: I own these words, you-know-who owns Twilight.**

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**I stared at him; he stared down into the clear water.

The separation between us felt bigger than just a corner of the pool.

We were alone in the huge expanse of the facility.

Our breathing was quiet, the only other noises coming from the motorized cleaning machines, the five-second beat of the water lapping against the trap.

"I heard you killed someone."

He didn't respond with words, but I felt sure I saw him nod.

I pressed on. I _had _to.

"They drowned?"

"Instead of saving them, I saved myself."

"Them?"

"The someone. I saved me, and killed them."

"How... How do you cope with that? Live with yourself?"

His eyes were bright in the dusty darkness. "I don't."


	11. Cat

**Prompt - Cat**

**Disclaimer: I still own way too much fun with these, SMeyer still owns Twilight. Think I win. Again.**

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"You're crazy! I didn't burn your toast!"

"It was set at the perfect setting, and now it's not. What other conclusion is there than you?"

"I resent the insinuation that you think I don't have anything better to do than burn your stupid toast!"

I sighed, watching the scene play out before me. Grown women, acting like thirteen-year-olds.

_Thank Merlin I never had any siblings._

_Also, screw you, Merlin. Wanker._

"Have you woken Bella up, yet?"

"Don't change the subject! And no, I haven't."

"Perfect. Now she'll be late for school. You're a terrible guardian."

"Nag nag nag."

Suddenly bored, I jumped off the counter and trotted upstairs, the sounds of Ali and Ali's argument following me.

"Aw, there's my Eddar-weddar-neds." I cringed at the stupid name(s). "Did you run away from the arguments of the Dolt-head sisters?"

I made a small noise as Isabella hugged me closer and stroked me.

She was wearing nothing but her panties and bra.

And seemingly enjoying the sensation of my fur against her deliciously bare skin.

Sometimes, the whole being turned into a cat thing had its perks.


	12. Chocolate

**Prompt - Chocolate**

**Disclaimer: I get to own these words, SMeyer gets to own... well, you know.**

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I can see her watching me.

Her tongue just barely poking out, resting on the plumpness of her bottom lip.

Fuck, I want her.

I know she wants me, too.

There's no other explanation for the way she stares, the way she tracks my every move, the way her ankles cross.

The way her thighs flex.

I almost wish she's wearing a skirt, but her jeans are precariously close to being a second skin.

_I'll settle for that compromise._

She's still watching me, not even pretending to read her book anymore.

Keeping my smirk hidden, I let her see _my_ tongue.

Watch her eyes start to glaze and lust over as I flick it over the spoon, gathering the lingering fudge at a snail's pace.


	13. Fuck

**A/N: So, this drabble collection has thirteen instead of twelve. Because, after giving me the word prompts I'd shamelessly begged her for, AusLee realized she hadn't used **_**fuck**_** as one. Since I love her, I included it anyway. Even after it spiraled a bit outta my control, heh.**

**Prompt - Fuck**

**Disclaimer: I own pizza slices in my fridge. But not Twilight.**

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"Fuck."

My hand grips the edge of the couch. "Say it again."

"_Fuck_."

Body moving in tune with him. "Again."

"Fuck!"

The shaking starts, a short precursor to the main event. "More."

"_Fuuuuuuuuck!_"

I fall to pieces, heartbreaking and luxurious at the same time.

When I can breathe and move again, I grab the remote and press stop.

It's sad, how many times I've watched this particular porno. I can even quote along with it, pretending the male lead is with me.

I've never seen him in another one, or anywhere else for that matter. Despite countless hours and days of online searching. Hoping.

Wishing.

Because, as pathetic as it is, I've gotten off more times to him than with any boyfriend I've had in my thirty years.

A shrink would no doubt have a field day with me, analyzing the reasons why I'm in hopeless lust with an—apparently—onetime-deal pornstar.

I flash back to reality at the sound of the doorbell ringing, zipping up my pants and re-buttoning my shirt. Chances are fairly good it's my pizza delivery.

"Coming!"

The irony of my words isn't lost on me, and I giggle childishly.

My bare feet protest against the cold floor, but they are ignored.

Simultaneously, I grab the doorknob and twenty I'd already set out.

Door swooshes open, friendly smile, frozen.

Speechless.

Not a single word.

Smile slips.

_Him_.

Impossible.

Unfathomable.

_Him_.

Ridiculous.

Unfeasible.

_Him_.

How the fuck?

"You."


End file.
